


twenty lifetimes at your door

by route1984



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: F/M, Growing Up, Puppy Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:07:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1333078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/route1984/pseuds/route1984
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The urge to walk over and console her is always strong, but his nerves always outweighed whatever confused feeling he held in his chest at 9 years of age. </p><p>(awkward, growing-up puppy love)</p>
            </blockquote>





	twenty lifetimes at your door

Sometimes he sees her staring off into the distance, hands on her lap clutching the pink frames of her glasses tight between white knuckles. The urge to walk over and console her is always strong, but his nerves always outweighed whatever confused feeling he held in his chest at 9 years of age. So he stays away at the last moment, deciding to quietly watch her from a distance. It's at those times that he thinks to himself that Alex has really pretty hair.

\---

He's trying not to bawl his eyes out, because Himuro is looking over him with worry painted on his face. He doesn't need to feel babied right now because the feeling of hot, hot, _hot_ torn flesh on his knees and shins is more than enough to make him feel mortified. He screws his eyes shut and tries to nod calmly when Himuro  asks if he's alright.

_Of course I'm not alright! Can't you see how shredded my knees are!?_

He admits though, it doesn't look as bad as it feels, but _damn_ could he feel it. The urge to scream was unbearable and growing by the second. At that moment, he wanted no more than to curl up on himself and disappear into the concrete. He's just turned 10, and for all that he knows, he's not a child anymore. A scraped knee should be nothing to him by now.

The tiniest and most miserable sob slips out of him just as he feels strong arms slip under his knees and around his back.  His eyes fly open to see the sun reflected on lenses and pink frames, and a small and all too familiar smile.

"H-hey, what are you doing, Alex?!" he all but winces as she adjusts her hold on his legs. "I told you guys, I'm fine!"

"Don't be stupid," she says, voice firm but calm. "Can't play with cut up knees. Also this place is filthy, got to get these cleaned up unless we want real trouble."

She pulls him close to herself, and he notices the faint scent of mints, like the kind that comes cheap in small tin cases at the convenience store. Even more than that, he notices how warm she is. Not the kind of warmth that comes from the sun and the sport, but the kind that comforts and invites. He doesn't want to, but he starts to wonder if anyone else but him has thought the same.

 Without warning, she starts to walk and he can't begin to explain why his head feels like it's spinning and his chest wants to explode. She looks to him and her smile widens slightly, kindly. Something gets stuck in his throat.

"Hold on, kid. It's going to be a bit of a walk to my place."

She cocks her head to side and motions with her shoulder. His arm winds behind her neck tentatively and he tries to hold on without touching her too much. He notices Himuro fall into step beside them, smiling slightly.

She starts humming a happy tune, but he loses it to the sound of his heart hammering through his chest. How he survived the entire walk to her apartment complex, he'll never know.

\---

The  night she finally lets him sleep over (he insists that he's old enough to not need need a babysitter), he has dinner at her place because his parents needed to leave early and Himuro and his folks are out of town for the weekend.

After he wolfs down his 3rd serving of whatever it was that she put out that night (it was probably a menagerie of takeout food), he peeks out from the kitchen door and sees her just as she plops down in front of the television. When she looks over her shoulder towards him, he ducks his head back into the kitchen.

“Just leave your dishes in the sink. I'll take care of them in the morning.”

He hears the TV click on, sound blasting through the speakers, but some shuffling a moment later, and her footsteps pad off just as a car commercial comes on. A door clicks shut but the blaring company jingle makes it hard to tell if it was part of the spiel or from the confines of the small apartment. Didn't her neighbors ever complain about the noise?

When he finishes dumping the wash in the sink and the leftovers are stuffed neatly into the fridge, he deftly moves to the tiny living room hoping to inspect the range of channels available on her cable provider. As he seats himself on the worn out couch, reaching out to grab the remote shoved between pillows, something catches on his foot. When he lifts it up to inspect, it's then that he catches his first look at women's underwear.

As if on cue, a door on the far side of the room slams open against the wall and he hears the sound of wet feet on polished wood before the puff of steam even reaches him.

“All yours, Taiga,” she calls over her shoulder, but he doesn't dare look over. He hears her hum the jingle as she stalks off to her room.

It's long after he hears the click of another door that he realized that he forgot to pack his shampoo.

He doesn't mind smelling like green tea and roses when his parents pick him up the next morning. On his way to the door, he briefly ponders how nice she would look in pastel stripes.

\---

Sometimes he wonders what she's thinking about when she gets quiet and thoughtful, but he doesn't try to kid himself because he knows all too well. It's the very same reason  he and Tatsuya got to meet her in the first place, and he knows he should feel guilty for even thinking it, but some part deep inside him is thankful for it.

He knows it's a terrible thing to think, so he tries to make up for it whenever he can. He could only manage the little things though, anything more than that was sure to make things weird or bring up topics he'd rather not deal with.

This is why he never forgets to say thank you, no matter how exhausted he is at the end of each day.

This is why whenever he can save some extra money, he makes sure to get her a bottle of water or a drink after their training sessions (and of course he gets Tatsuya one too, because otherwise he'd get suspicious).

This is why he makes sure to ask his mom for a few more pieces of tamago (for Tatsuya and Alex, of course) whenever she packs his lunch boxes, and why he always eats one piece less when she forgets.

This is why he invites Alex to their middle school anniversary fair, even though she didn't have to come, and even though Tatsuya kept telling him not to bother her about it, and even though he just helped make the banners for their classes booth (he would never forget how she smiled and ruffled his hair when he showed her the banner he did on his own).

This is why when he finally turns eleven, he picks up the phone to call her house number, and immediately hangs up when he hears a man's voice pick up. That evening his parents wonder why he didn't eat as much of his favorite lemon cake as he usually does, and why he didn't run to the door when Tatsuya comes to pick him up for their traditional birthday ice cream with their teacher.

\---

She calls him out a week after his birthday, when Tatsuya has to leave early for a family outing. She insists walking him home (even though it would make her trip back twice as long) and he feels the lump form in his throat before he even picks up his bag from the benches.

They're quiet for a while and he tries to walk ahead of her. Of course she's still taller than him so her strides would always close the distance.

She's the first one to speak and he thinks, _I really messed things up._

"So Taiga, has anything been bothering you lately?" Her voice is measured and casual.

"Hm, why would you say that?" He tries to feign nonchalance but he hears the slight catch in his voice.

"You've been really quiet these past few days, and you don't seem really into playing," she says as she adjusts the ball under her arm.

He grunts and looks down at a pebble that catches on his foot.

"Anything bothering you?" Her question is innocent enough, but only a long time student could hear the firmness in it, the _"tell me and I'll help you sort it out"_ tone of voice.

"Nope, not really," he says, syllables clipped and curt. "I... just haven't been feeling it lately." He can't explain why his chest starts to feel tight as he says it.

"That's not really like you," she hums, a hand rubbing her chin. He's glad she couldn't see his face, or else she'd know then and there.

"Hey, um, I tried calling your place last week," he starts, and he can't believe he even dares it.

"Oh, really? When? I think I might have missed you," she perks up at this change of topic.

"Yeah, on my birthday." He clenches his bag strap tight, fabric scraping against his nails. "Someone else picked up."

"Hmmmm, s'that so?" Her finger taps her lips in that manner that makes him wonder what kind of lip gloss does she use.

_Great, she doesn't even remember._

"Ah! My landlord!" she exclaims.

"You're what?"

"I think you caught my landlord then," she says turning to him. He wonders how shocked his face looks right then. "I asked him to check on my phone connection that week."

"You what?"

"I was already headed out then but I let him work on it since we couldn't agree on any other time."

"Oh," was the only reply he could muster. He began to feel very stupid.

She frowns a bit, looking worried at his silence. "Was there something important you wanted to tell me then?"

"No, it was nothing. Just wanted to try calling you."

They're a block from his house and he looks back to see her stop. His heart is still threatening to burst from his chest, and the sunset framing her in bright orange light does not help, nor does the fact that he can't read her face.

"Hey, you can always call on me," she says, her voice light, just like the smile that slowly forms on her face.

He freezes, he did not expect anything aside from quiet dismissal.

She laughs softly and ruffles his hair, planting a light peck on the top of his head. It wasn't something new, but it still felt different. He tries to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Go on inside, it's getting dark." She chuckles and he feels her hand pull away.

When he finally musters the courage to move, she's already crossed the street on the way to the station.

**Author's Note:**

> This is currently incomplete. I still have a few more years to write before we get to the current timeline, but I figured I'd post the unfinished piece anyway. 
> 
> Sorry if this isn't as poetic or flow-y as I wanted it to be. Please pardon my weird sentence construction, grammar, and any typos. I am not a native speaker. Rating will probably be bumped up in the later part because.... well y'know, teenagers.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this!


End file.
